


you were an isle unto thyself (you had a heart you hadn't felt)

by Feathers



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Mirror Universe, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prime universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feathers/pseuds/Feathers
Summary: He nearly felt his world fall out from the soles of his feet. He recognized these stars.





	1. why did murderous animals survive?

**Author's Note:**

> [title credit to this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctRembqQCcw&list=PLOzoofPmpcX0wLEquInlprLkqrHYYJ0ab&index=30)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> none of this science makes a lick of sense, by the way. and there's some graphic descriptions of violence, but not like graphic ay eff.

The image was burned into his eyes forever, now. Now. This moment. As the remaining third of his crew stood around him and watched the flickers and flashes of orange and blue burned brightly - so bright to him they overshadowed any stars he'd ever seen - before blinking out in silence. Bodies drifted in the abyss, morphed and curled in agony. As if in some cruel sentiment, the eyes of his Chief Science Officer, the Benzite Th'oluu turned in the direction of the Buran as they glazed over before bulging from the sockets. He'd only had nine months left in his tour of duty.

Not twenty-four hours into this new universe and the ache of betrayal brought him to his knees, watching and counting each soul he lost in those few moments. He felt flames to his back, but he new it was in his head. This universe would not give him the mercy of death. Not yet. That heat was his indignant fury and the weight of his failure, lashing out at him and anyone who might come too close. He could hear someone calling for him, but they sounded galaxies away. He'd say as far as home was, but that was even farther.

They'd arrived in a new space. A space not their own. In a matter of moments, they'd been surrounded by what they'd though had been the Shenzhou and something that looked almost Romulan and Vulcan. He had expected diplomacy. How foolish. Give them the Buran, he thought. Give them himself. That seemed to have been what they wanted, initially. Something about being a traitor to the Empire. He knew that saving this ship was not more important than saving his crew.

Blood and confusion in his ears, he turned and looked at her. The face of the woman who had just taken the life of his crew. The face that would surely be the last he'd ever see - one way or another. Michael Burnham. "You'll burn for this," he said, low but unwavering. The sting of his nails digging into the cuts of his hands and the taught grip of shackles around his wrists were the only sensations keeping him tethered to the moment.

"Feel free to blame yourself, Captain Lorca," she said dismissively, looking up from her panel to meet his gaze. She sat in the chair like she'd earned it. The captains chair. His chair. "They were going to die regardless of your actions here. You simply made their ends kinder than what awaits the rest of you."

"I would remind you of your promise, but I feel it would fall on deaf ears." His Chief Medical Officer, Sha'uri, and resident conscious, shifted near imperceptibly unless you knew what to look for. She was El-Aurian, may the universe bless her. Looked human enough, apparently. Her shift, though, was a warning to him. But he was fully aware of the risks he took at this point.

"I promised them safe passage off of this ship, not safe passage to the ground." His stomach lurched and in that moment he thought he might actually vomit. He was so, so naive. This Burnham character didn't even bother to watch as her own crew pulled and yanked him to stand again. Her image flickered out and he became aware again that they were in the docking bay. Thoughts of wringing her neck simply moved to a dark corner of his mind. They escorted the rest of his crew to the brig. That's where he found out what an Agonizer was.

 

* * *

 

Shuttles were not the best for landing planet-side, but the remains of the Buran drifted around them in space. He'd beamed the rest of his crew down before hand. He was heading for an Andorian-occupied planet, breaching atmosphere in a ship not built the actions at this speed, land in sight when a shimmering hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to see Burnham, bloodied and bruised, grimace marred by a scar to her lips. Fate was a cruel mistress, and it came in the form of human hands. Shuttles were also not the safest place for hand to hand combat.

She pulled him from his seat at the cockpit as the shuttle began to shake under the pressure, unable to acclimatize to atmo quick enough. "Don't honorable Terrans go down with their ship and crew?" He punched and she parried.

"Our honor is found in the glory of the bounty," she spat at him. Her moves were quick and precise. His were slow, but heavy. "Brought back dead or alive."

He could hear some of the panels of the shuttle crunching and cutting against each other. It distracted her for only a moment, but long enough for him to try and pin her. "If we're lucky, we'll both die before we land." Burnham broke his grapple though, and pushed him away. "Human and Terran biology doesn't differ much, but I'm still bigger than you." She kicks at him and he ducks, jabbing at her other leg. "Maybe I'll get to last just a few seconds longer." She pulls a knife from her boot and runs at him, but he takes the blade directly in his palm and holds her to him. "Hope you don't mind. I like to watch."

He's smiling and he doesn't know why. His body feels only pain. Sharp, blunt, hot, cold. He wonders if this is what it would feel like if he'd died in space alongside his crew. The blinding light of flames forming around the shuttle is blocked from her vision by his own shadow. She looks scared. Confused. At least for a moment, before she leans forward and kisses him. If she was looking to blindside him, that was certainly a way to do so. He'd let go of her if her blade weren't wedged between the bones of his hand.

"You're not my Gabriel. I know that." She was smiling, too, and that was marginally more terrifying than the shuttle breaking around them. "But I wish you had been." He'd figured in this universe, there had been another Gabriel Lorca somewhere, but he hadn't expected the close ties the man had had with Burnham.

She's the last face he sees before the force of entering atmosphere throws them against the back of the ship and knocks them out. She's the last face he sees when he's being carried away from the wreckage of the shuttle. Her own knife stabbing into her arm, her body strewn across the wreckage. Michael Burnham's eyes are open, but he doesn't know if that means she's alive. He thinks he sees a light in them before he passes out again.

 

* * *

 

"Gabriel," Forsyth called out, pulling Lorca from his daze, lost in the data they'd stolen from the Terran Empire. He looked up from the tablet and this universes excuse for coffee to see the Kzinti man rushing into the tent. Sha'uri followed closely behind him.

"I've been trying to make sense of this info on the Defiant, but it's mostly redacted, and honestly, my eyes are starting to hurt from staring at blank darkness." His thirty two hours without proper sleep may account for his inability to have sensed their urgency until he was on his feet. "What is it?" He pinched the bridge of his nose and felt his body almost relax in anticipation of a physical blow.

"They got Firewolf. They got the whole base." Forsyth's fangs were baring, and his tail curled. Gabriel could recognize the anger. This was a man seconds from making a very bad mistake.

Sha'uri stepped forward, knowing better than to place a hand on her friend at the moment. "Sarek was in the middle of relaying a bugout order when the message cuts off. Sources think there are currently two ships over the planet, one having enough fire power to deface a planet. We're awaiting confirmation, but I think it's best we start moving." She had her medical kit packed and strapped, alongside what scant belongings she had left of life before.

Gabriel had a bug-out bag already, but he worried for Forsyth, as well as the other civilians that had joined the rebellion. There was always so much that each of them left behind, everywhere they went. Being trained in Star Fleet, space was their home, and travelling was always a constant, but Terran's had corrupted even that, hadn't they. No home was left for anyone in this universe.

 

* * *

 

They're close enough to feel its effect, but far enough not to know what, exactly, they were feeling. It felt like one of his dissociation episodes, only amped up with the endorphin from fleeing for their lives, along with the shield of their ship malfunctioning in the fact that it became more powerful? They were thrown about as the internal gravity sensors tried to account for the pivoting that lead into a full tumble. They'd luckily been strapped in. This had been a small mining vessel before they scavenged it for transport.

When they all readjusted and got a look around, though, he nearly felt his world fall out from the soles of his feet. He recognized these stars. They'd been the same stars they had always been, but these seemed as though they even glowed brighter. He knew what he was seeing when he looked at these stars. Knew what he was feeling. And he hadn't felt this in about a year and two-hundred and twelve days.

Home.

 

* * *

 

"I'm telling you, I have no idea how I got back to this universe, but I'm not any other Gabriel," he pleaded.

Star Fleet explained they had been scanning sector by sector for any quantum frequency that hadn't matched their own when they came across the Andorian mining vessel that held many non-Andorian life forms in its crew. Sha'uri stood from the bench of their shared holding cell as he began pacing. "Surely you have records of the Captain and Buran - our ship - going missing somewhere in the remains of your files."

Forsyth and the others remained surprisingly calm during this time. Probably because they weren't used to such humane imprisonment of a Federation brig. They were bracing for the other shoe to fall.

Captain Saru stood taller than any Kelpian he'd ever met, and much more inquisitive and commanding. Gold seemed to fit him, Lorca thought. Or maybe he was just happy to see the old uniform.

"I have reason to believe you are not Terran, looking at the company you keep, but believe me when I say we've been lied to before," Saru stated. "You understand we musy err on the side of caution during this crucial time of war."

Gabriel slumped to the floor, back against the side wall and legs folded close. "I get it," he uttered, low, and almost to himself. Sha'uri, however, refused to accept defeat.

"Where's Admiral Cornwell?" Her voice had a glimmer of hope Gabriel hadn't heard in her for quite some time. He couldn't help but smile. It had returned to her when they first set eyes on the U.S.S. Discovery. Neither of them really had any idea what lay within this ships walls, as the idea of its construction was just scuttlebutt before they'd been sucked into that other place. "She can attest to his claim. Kat's a friend!"

Gabriel isn't too well educated in Kelpian body language, but the silence that followed after didn't bode well for their pleas. He could only imagine what had happened to these people - what injustice hurt them in such a way that even looking at him brought suspicion.

He held his face in his hands, his body currently deciding on whether he wanted to cry or laugh. He heard the door to the brig open and a rushing of footsteps. Captain Saru sounded only slightly perturbed by the interruption but Gabriel thought the man sounded almost unsurprised when he said, "Number One, I told you it'd be best for you not to-"

"I'm sorry, Captain, I just needed to see for myself." That voice. His head shot up, and his eyes hyperfocused on the blankness of the wall of his holding cell. He tried to center himself. Concentrate on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. He could think the words, but his breathing wasn't the only thing currently out of his control.

He was up and charging at the forceshield before logic could stop his fist from slamming uselessly against the wall beside it. "Gabriel!" Sha'uri scolded him, but her words were broken. There was no way she was uneffected. They were looking at a face that they knew neither of them ever had any hope of forgetting.

It felt like anger was pouring out of him in waves. His skin was tight. Too tight. The scar in the palm of his hand was like an anchor in this moment, only instead of keeping him grounded, it felt like he was sinking.

"Michael Burnham," he scoffed, unable to keep the dirty grin off of his face. "You're supposed to be dead."

This Burnham, though. She had none of the scars that the other Burnham did. The scars that the other Burnham kept as trophies, or the ones that he gave her. No smiling cuts at her cheeks, or stab wound in the arm. She was wearing Star Fleet athletic wear. Flashes in his vision of her body among the wreckage of his shuttle. Of her cold smile as she had cut into him time and time again.

There was that fear in her eyes again, but it was a different flavour from last time. It was a mutual feeling, but he wouldn't show it. He'd learned not to let this woman get a read on him.

She walked up to him, inches apart with only the forceshield and a bad mistake between them. She examined his face, but he tried to mask his weakness with anger. "I could say the same for you."

He saw Burnham's professional attitude as she commanded her crew to take aim at the retreating shuttles. He saw fire. He saw Otan, and Gurrak, Fransisca, Horatio, and the rest of his crew he'd lost. That he hadn't been strong enough to save. He saw Th'oluu's fear and acceptance frozen in space before bursting at the seems as his anatomy fell victim to the vacuum of space. He saw her kissing him.

Or, at least, that's what it felt like he saw before he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started writing this at 01:20am and it's now 04:56am so forgive me for it being unbeta'd and unpolished.
> 
> I know I should research better into some of the subject matter I speak about, but how I write mental health issues and mental breaks is based off of my own experiences. Also, the name Sha'uri comes from Star Gate, but this character is not at all based on her. I just like the name. All the other names were made-up or chosen on the spot. Except for Forsyth. That was the last name of my cat growing up. Yes, my cat had a last name. He had a middle name, too.


	2. i've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: some vague mentions of previous torture including forced sedation

When he opened his eyes, he could see nothing but blinding light for a few moments. He flinched, initially, but refused to close his eyes again. He hadn't seen this kind of light for so long it was beginning to feel it would go away if he blinked. He stared into the light, merely waiting as his eyes took time to focus. 

Monitors. More white than grey. Beeping. Medbay, and honestly, he got that feeling again. The feeling that he almost didn't belong here. That this was a dream, or he was a second to the left. It didn't make sense, and he never quite knew how to describe it, but he knew what it was. A part of him thought this was an intermission, of sorts. That he was due back and his body acted as though he was going to be late for something he didn't even know might happen. 

He pulled, but there were restraints. Made sense. Patient that could be a danger to someone or to themselves. Doesn't mean he had to like it. There had been a sedative. He had no proof, but he could feel it. Like lead in his bones. Being tired, but wide awake. He'd developed a hatred for anything that would numb him - make him still. Sha'uri could only convince him to take a light sedative when his lack of sleep was impeding his work, and even then, it took some debate. And she was still his CMO. Always listen to doctor. 

There was someone there. Medical Officer. Not his though. Theirs. She looked at him worriedly, scanning him with a proper tricorder. She knew he was awake. He could see his readings on her screen, but couldn't see what they were conveying to her that made her so upset. The shortness of his current seat, though, was making his tall self almost equally upset. In his peripheral, he saw pink and blue enter the room. 

"How is he, Dr. Pollard?" Captain Saru said, loud enough to make sure Gabriel knew they were talking about him. 

"I've done every scan within our power and what he says checks out. He's the Gabriel Lorca of our universe," she said, pointing at what looked to be his frequency readings, as well as a rather detailed scan of his eyes. Her wording had been subtle, but specific, he realized. 

"You could've just flashed a light in my eyes and gotten the same results, Doctor," Gabriel grunted. Neither of them laughed. He wanted to sit up, but the weight of his limbs wouldn't even let him pull against the restraints. 

"Extensive internal scarring, to go with the external." Gabriel clenched his hand and felt the groove of it. "Signs showing that his bones have been broken more than once in several places. Recent episodic dehydration and sleep deprivation." 

"If you wanted a medical history, you could have asked." He rolled his head from side to side in an attempt to stretch it out. "Sha'uri Viknon. She was my CMO aboard the Buran. Way back when." He aimed for nonchalance, but the click of the tongue from Saru probably meant he missed the mark. No matter how long ago it was, it was never long enough. Even then, he'd never dishonour his crew in trying to forget them. He had seventy three letters in his head he'd been meaning to write. Maybe now he finally had the time. 

"She's El-Aurian," Saru pointed out curiously. 

"She is." Dr. Pollard was adjusting his seat - bed, whatever - to better sit up. "Empire didn't think to check her rybo-viroxic-nucleic sequence before they threw us in the box." Pollard was avoiding looking him in the eye. Guess he was going to have to get used to that. "Or ask her age." She had a few centuries on him, and she liked lording that over him when it came to advising him on his health. 

"I'm assuming the ones that didn't look so human-" 

"Killed," Gabriel cut him off sternly. "When we first got to that universe, we were already surrounded. I had guessed they were chasing someone, because they didn't hesitate to start firing. When I hailed them, they immediately saw the difference. Our uniforms. The crew." This pain was not new, but it had yet to fade. It sank heavy in him and tangled in his guts. "There was the I.S.S. Shenzhou and what we figured out was the Emporer's ship, the Charon. We were outmatched." 

Looking back, he doesn't know if he should have gone down fighting. He remembered looking into the sun - or what seemed to be a sun. Info said it was a reactor of some sort. But up close, and off guard, he had known that to fight them would be to die. 

"We were boarded by the Shenzhou's captain and her guards. I told my crew to stand down." Otan and Fransisca had tried to fight him on it. None of them wanted to do it, but he thought he was saving them. "She had said she wanted me and me alone, so I was going to give her what she wanted." 

"We know that the I.S.S. Shenzhou was captained by their version of Michael Burnham." He felt his teeth grind together, eyes flashing to Saru. Gabriel forced his jaw to relax and tried to focus on tensing each muscle in his body individually, limb by limb. He started at his toes, staring at his very much non-Federation footwear. "We also know that Burnham is presumed to be dead, but they never found a body." 

"Any chance I could ask you to loosen the straps? Promise I won't float myself out of any ventilation shaft." Captain Saru and Dr. Pollard shared a look. He sighed, and began focusing on his calves. 

"I knew they were fascists. Elitist. Xenophobic. They gathered most of the non-human crew and she told me to choose. Shuttle or food." Saru clicked worriedly again. He fully understood what Gabriel wasn't saying. "I chose shuttle." He chuckled darkly, lacking all humour. "Silly me, thinking there was honour in parlay." He felt tears stinging in the back of his eyes and refused to let them fall. He hadn't cried in years and he wouldn't until he avenged his crew. 

Saru cleared his throat and looked back to Dr. Pollard and she spoke to Gabriel. "We can mend your internal injuries. We'll have to rebreak a few smaller bones that healed out of position. Clean up the scar tissue surrounding your organs. I'll up the dosage-" 

"No aenesthetic," Gabriel snapped, feeling his body jerk against the restraints reflexively. The captain and doctor didn't even flinch, but her gaze grew darker. He concentrated on squeezing his muscles again. He was up to his abdomen. "Please." 

Saru looked to the ground, eyes flickering left and right. Considering. "The pain will be excruciating," Dr. Pollard assured them both, as if she felt the mere thought was ridiculous. Saru looked to Gabriel again. 

They'd used anesthetics in the Empire, but of a different kind. They rendered him conscious but immobile. No bindings, no shackles. Just lie him there, in a corner on the floor. They would pry his eyes open and made him watch as they used the hand-held agonizers, or knives, or drills on his people in front of him. When he closed his eyes, he could still see their faces. Hear their screams. 

"Are you sure?" Captain Saru asked, as if he could see into Lorca's memories. 

"You can keep me strapped down, just don't drug me." Sha'uri was going to be livid. "And I want to keep the surface scars." 

 

* * *

 

"Are you fucking kidding me, sir?" Sha'uri's words were even, but held malice.

"Don't give too much of a huff, Ri, I passed out from the pain alone before they even got to the invasive surgery." She turned away from him and motioned at nobody, like the walls would understand her frustration. Her face scrunched into that expression of disbelief she often got when he was on his bullshit. 

"Does that-" she paused, finger at her lips. "Do you- Do you even know? How illogical that sounds?" She was wearing basic training wear now. The crew of the Discovery had let his people bathe and dress in clothing that didn't reek. Fresh from the synthesizer. 

He had changed into something more like a prisoner uniform. 

"Do we even still have rank?" he asked, and Sha'uri's fury vanished. Or, more than likely, pushed to a corner to be revisited at a later time. 

"I'm still a CMO, just not on this vessel. I help when they let me." She crossed her arms and stretched her head to the side. He knew the look well. "George and Wishbone are just wandering around Engineering, twiddling their thumbs. The crew won't let them touch anything, but this ship is weird, Captain." She let her head fall forward with the weight of what she didn't want to say. "The others don't have rank, and typically remain surrounded by a security detail until they find out what to do with people not of this universe." 

"We just got here and you're already clocking routines?" 

"You've been unconscious for two of the four days we've been here." 

"Fair." He was still in medbay, recovering but no longer strapped down. They kept guards at the door. "And that thing you don't want to tell me?" 

"You're free to walk the halls and your quarters as you wish, but for all accounts and purposes, you hold no rank and are deemed a guest." Gabriel nodded. How else was he supposed to respond. He hadn't been a real captain in so long, it was hard to expect them to give him back the reigns so freely. "The other Lorca actively acted against both the Federation and the Terran Empire. They're unsure if you share similar opinions." 

"Also fair." He had to say that, but by the way he clenched his jaw and gripped the bed, Sha'uri and he both knew he saving face. It would do him no good to argue. 

 

* * *

 

Gabriel was on his fifteenth lap and the looks weren't getting less heavy. No one knew how to act around him. The Buran crew was helping in their respective fields. Sha'uri was sharing any medical knowledge she'd gained from working more closely with Klingons, as was Teng, a rebel from the other universe and resident friendly Klingon. Forsyth had abandoned him after lap twelve to go to the mess hall.

"This is messed up! This is so messed up." He heard the voices and paused to jog in place as Lt. Paul Stamets stormed into the hall from a room Gabriel had no access to. "In fact, it's fucked up." 

Gabe was going to mind his own and continue jogging when Hugh came following after Paul. His Hugh. The other Hugh. A Hugh from the other place. 

It was public knowledge that the Hugh and Paul of this universe had been an item. This Hugh had only briefly met the other Stamets. Hugh was a rebel doctor that defected when they had escaped the Shenzhou, while other Stamets had been too consumed with the mycelial reactor and technology to even glance in Hugh's direction, if he remembered correctly. 

"Everything okay?" Gabe stopped jogging and regarded Hugh with open concern. Hugh looked distraught. 

"This is none of your business," Paul retorted shortly. He had one hand to his head and the other trying to wave them both away. 

Hugh sighed. He looked tired. "Apparently my alternative counterpart was a good man and it's unfair that I'm not Terran scum." Maybe Gabriel should have kept jogging. 

"It's not fair that my Hugh isn't alive!" Paul near shouted, but his words were stilted. They sounded pained. "It's not fair that he's dead, and you're here, and you're not him, but you-" The man was pivoting left and right and no part of him seemed to have wanted to keep still. 

"His feelings are valid." 

"Not helping, Gabe," Hugh grunted. 

"Don't call him Gabe! For fuck's sake, it's like your-" he gestured vaguely "-pals or something!" Paul finally looked at Hugh and there was no attempt at hiding the tears that threatened to fall. 

Hugh was about to respond when Gabriel put up a hand to stop him. He didn't move closer, but stepped to be in Paul's field of vision. "You have every right to be upset." 

These words only seemed to upset Paul. "Who do you think-" 

"Listen," Gabriel interjected before things went too far. "Can we?" He nodded towards a side room so that this would be less public. Paul shook his head stiffly, but marched to the room as Gabriel and Hugh followed. 

Gabriel counted a moment before beginning, trying to gauge the atmosphere. "Lieutenant Stamets, you, more than most, are aware of the similarities and differences between this universe and theirs." It was a fact, and he said it as much. "I don't know many specifics, but I know you and the other you were the leads in your field of study. Of the mycelial network that connects reality." 

Paul nodded briskly. Progress. "The probabilities are so infinitesimal, but something in each respective universe occurred so that we even exist, which is a miracle. DNA sequences and ancestry and possible outcomes in two separate realms creating someone just like you, or just like me, but different." 

"I'm aware. Your point, if we're going to get there. Spit it out." He was calmer, at least. Complimenting intelligence and speaking the language seemed to be a way to soothe the beast, but it hadn't stopped the sadness Gabriel saw consuming the man. Hugh was biting his lip and wouldn't look up. 

"It's the same reason Saru and the Federation don't trust me." He said it plainly, but the words themselves cut into his skin, burrowed into his flesh and lay there, just under the surface. "Me and that other man, that other Gabriel Lorca are different, but not enough." He shoved his hands into his pockets. Casual stance to ease the message. "Fore-thinkers, stubborn, not always the best at staying in line." 

"Don't know when to mind your own business," Paul interjected. 

"See, but there's the difference," Gabriel pointed, giving a sly smile. "While I speak up out of concern, to what I've heard, my other spoke out of manipulation. I bend guidelines to raise my peers and protect those who can't protect themselves. The other Lorca navigated around the rules for his own selfish gain." 

Captain Saru had given him as much of an explanation as he was willing to give when it had come to questions about the other Lorca when he was explaining as to why Gabriel was given guest status. Saru hadn't delved into personal ties, trying to keep bias out of what was inherently a very bias subject. 

Hugh was staring at the edge of the table with his arms crossed. Paul looked three seconds from eating his own hand. 

"And I'm not a xenophobic, racist, megalomaniac." Gabe shrugged and nodded, more so to himself than either of them. 

There was a silence over the room, both of them seemingly brooding. Less hostile than when they came in, but Gabe felt the moment was balanced on knife's edge. 

"I defected out of self-preservation," Hugh spoke softly. Gabriel let out a quiet breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. Paul looked at Hugh. Hugh looked up, but at no one specific, keeping his eyes anywhere aside from either of them. 

"It wasn't because I'm some saint. I knew what I did in the Empire was wrong, but I did it because if I hadn't done those things, they would have beamed me into space." Gabriel felt his neck tense. "A lot of my colleagues died because they would vocalize something the Empire didn't like. Even if it was gossip with someone you thought you knew, there was no trust in the Empire." 

Gabriel shifted from foot to foot, his hands curling into fists in his pockets. He swallowed, but it was dry. He didn't even know how the argument had started between two of them. 

"Gabriel broke free because of a mistake I made." Their eyes met. This was a subject neither of them liked to bring up. In fact, neither had really mentioned afterwards. They told the rebels, but the story was a touchy one. "He'd been developing a tolerance, I misjudged his dosage, when he held a scalpel to my throat, I begged him to take me with him." 

Paul's eyebrows scrunched, his frown becoming more of a pout and he looked to Gabriel, who was regretting ever even deciding to go on a jog in the first place. 

"He was my anesthesiologist." He could see the questions forming on Paul's face, and Gabriel wasn't in the mood to answer all of them. Or any of them really. None of the Discovery crew knew the details of Gabriel's torture, and he wasn't looking to share any time soon. 

"You already know he's not your Hugh, but part of you can't help relating the two." He sniffed and looked out the window into the stars. His stars. "Maybe get to know him and you'll learn to tell the difference." Turning to the door, he would take the hasty exit as a fitting dramatic one. 

Perhaps not the best timing, as when the door opened, his body collided with another, smaller one. Gabriel's entire body tensed and it felt like the air left him to freeze in place. He kept his eyes cast over her head, but could feel Michael Burnham's gaze. The taste of copper filled his mouth, and it said something that he had always associated the taste with her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really need to learn how to not write between the hours of 3 to 5am because i don't even know if half of this makes sense at this point
> 
> fuckinnnnnnn slide into my ask at shamefulstrudel.tumblr.com if you feel like taking one for the team and beta'ing whatever the fuck this work becomes


	3. it's the starkness of the dawn and your friends are gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some graphic details of death but it's brief and then it's gone

"Lieutenant Stamets, Captain Saru would like to speak with you about possible unforeseen effects our jumps may have on the network, and any chances we might have of accidentally entering another, separate universe," Burnham spoke with intent, only just glancing at Paul, but keeping her eyes on Gabriel. As if he could react at any second. And, in reality, it felt like he might. 

"Because we need more Burnham's getting people killed," Gabriel said, nose flaring. His words were steady and sharp and aimed at her heart, and a sick part of him wanted her to suffer. 

Her eyes widened, mouth opening even just slightly. Her eyes darted between Paul and Hugh. Gabriel couldn't see their expressions, but he could assume they were affronted by his abrupt change in behaviour. He shocked himself, honestly, but her face brought that out in him. As soon as it left his mouth, he knew it was wrong, and some part of him regretted it, but a larger part of him didn't care. That part of him wanted to lash out, and she was an easy target. 

She kept her head down and walked around him, into the room. Paul left first, but not without a judgmental glare shot Gabriel's way. Hugh stopped briefly and looked more sad than anything. "Gabriel, it might be high time you take your own advice." He had that not-smile that turned down at the sides. Gabriel responded by just an arch of the eyebrow. His eyes hadn't wavered from looking at a point on the wall across the hall. He felt if he concentrated hard enough it would open and swallow them all whole. 

The doors swished shut behind Hugh, and now it was just them. Just Michael and Gabriel. Because fate was funny like that. 

"I might have overstepped my bounds," he gritted out. He was finding it remarkably difficult to move with her eyes on him. He knew they were on him - difficult not to when the feeling of that stare still haunted his nightmares. 

Burnham didn't respond. "I'm sure you know, the other you. She had had-" the acid in his stomach jumped at the thought "-feelings for the other me." He was vomiting, but it was words as opposed to actual bile. "I assume that's why she never wanted to get near me. Never physically close to me. She had other people torture me." 

"You don't have to do this," Burnham said, so, so quietly. The sound was a broken thing. He kept going. 

"You see, I didn't know that. Not until she kissed me." There was no stopping now. "The woman who killed and tortured my crew kissed me, confessed her feelings for me, seconds before what I was sure was going to be my death." He turned around, finally, and it was like flipping a switch. Gabriel saw her, arms crossed, closing in on herself, and her gaze dropped to the ground. Brow pinched. Eyes watery. "That's the face she made when she kissed me." He pointed. She immediately reigned in her expression, using that Vulcan teaching he was told she had. At some point he had started pacing. "And I don't even know if she's dead!" His laugh was short and bitter. 

He was suddenly back on the docking bay of the Buran. Well, he wasn't. He knew he wasn't. But even then, the Burnham that was standing in his vision now was dressed in black and gold. She was on screen, even then not deigning him worthy of her proximity. "Do you think that's how Terran's show affection?" In his minds eye, Sha'uri kept her chin high and brought no attention to herself, knowing full well that she could be targeted. "Killing everyone you call family and then not even having the courage to be the one to dig knives into your skin." Otan filled with rage, being disintegrated before they could even force him on a shuttle. "Because, let me tell you, after a while, I started to think there was something wrong with me." Horatio crying silently to himself, only just having been promoted from cadet. "That it was my fault she destroyed my life." 

Burnham's mouth moved in the words he remembered, but the sound was muffled. "She said that I was to be taken prisoner. To account for the actions my other had done. For the glory of the empire, she had said." He could feel the ghost of shackles around his wrists. "I made one of my biggest regrets that day." Th'oluu's eyes pushed forth from their sockets as his stomach ripped open, flesh singed from the explosion. "All because I thought sacrificing myself would be for the good of the crew." 

There was a gaping hole in his chest, and it was growing, sucking in the air he from his lungs, leaving him gasping. His pacing inevitably brought him to bumping into the table, and he was back on Discovery. His hands were free. They were shaking. "We should have gone down fighting. I shouldn't be here." The thin line left by the other Burnham's knife itched. "I'm responsible for what happened that day. She took what I gave her and then she took some more, and took and took and took." He braced the hand on the table before meeting her eyes again. Her face was strategically blank, but he could see her strain to do so. 

"You're not her, though," Gabriel said. The heat roiling in his gut left him and now he was just a deflated man. "I need to learn that." His hands were fists. "Part of me doesn't want to believe the truth. Part of me is still scared. Still running." If he didn't leave now, she would see weakness. His body told him to run - to find the nearest bottle and drown in it. "I'm sorry I said that. I'm sorry I said all of it." He sniffed and cracked his neck, feet pointing to the door. "You don't deserve the kind of pressure I put on you. I need to stop blaming you for what she did. For what I did." 

He was nearly out the door when he heard her say, "I find it truly remarkable how much I feel I relate to you in this moment." Gabriel stopped, turning an ear over his shoulder. It had sounded like she didn't even mean to say it - like the words jumped out of her of their own volition. Today was just full of surprises. Like the look of confusion on her face when he takes a seat at the table. Burnham - Michael - stays standing, and her hands drop to her sides, eyes slowly crawling up the table to look at him again. 

Her eyes dart this way and that. Maybe trying to piece together what they were doing - the meaning of it all. She looked at him, but Gabriel knows she doesn't see him. He didn't want to imagine what she was seeing. Time to cast a line. "If I leave now, having just thrown all my emotional baggage out there, well, then what kind of asshole would I be." He gestured openly, to give Michael the floor, as it were. There. Her pupils shrank. Focused. Back in the moment. 

"You and I both have made crucial decisions that have ended in tragedy for any number of people." 

"I might have caught wind of what happened at the Battle of the Binary Stars, yes." 

She visibly stiffens at his words, but continues. "And each and every day we try to do what we can to repair what we did. We recite the names in our heads and add up the body count and, in turn, burden ourselves with what is ultimately a messiah complex. We know we are no better than those we lost, but we hope to become better than we were when we made those mistakes." Her pauses are ripples in a tide pool, only adding more power to what she's trying to convey to him. "Captain Georgiou always tried to instill in me the want and need for a network. A team. But I never wanted to burden them with my sins." 

"We refuse the help we think we don't deserve," Gabriel added. 

"We don't want to disappoint them again," Michael said. The hole in his chest was burning with a fury. It doesn't want to agree with her. It wants to take back the apologies and spread the pain. 

The confusion inside him was brewing, bubbling up, and he could taste it now. On the back of his tongue. He swallowed harshly and bit the inside of his cheek. His ache wanted to be her ache. To make her cry out for the lives he's ended. His heart hammered at the thought of someone knowing his pain. 

Relating to Michael felt like he was betraying the memory of his crew. 

"Well, good to have had this delightful chat," he hissed, pushing himself up for his seat. "I think I'll go back to being the pariah on deck, now." Gabriel knew she was following him out, but he was tired of looking back. 

"You're better than him," she called out. Why. Why did it always come back to her. "He never would have cared as genuinely and as deeply as you do." And there it was. Like slowly sewing a stitch - poking and prodding and stabbing that pulls your flesh back together from once was torn. Michael was really too smart for her own good. Maybe he'd always known he was afraid of the similarities between himself and his other. Maybe he just had a problem with constantly refusing himself. 

"Just," he croaked. It felt like something was constricting around his throat and he had to refrain from scratching at it. "Let's just give us some time to get used to each others faces before we become drinking buddies, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the most drawn out porn i've ever written, and i'm definitely sure this chapter makes less sense than the last


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filler chapterrrrrrrrr. kinda.
> 
> and, i'm sorry, but are you telling me it's now canon that prime gabriel lorca is alive somewhere. and y'all neglected to fucking tell me this.

Gabriel was discussing the anatomical benefits and downfalls of having a tail with Forsyth over a meal of viinerine when Crewmen Sylvia Tilly sat at the table between the both of them, causing them to pause briefly and look at her.

Gabriel remembered he can't pull rank anymore, and doesn't even think he would, knowing her character to be harmless, if not somewhat curious. Forsyth's whiskers flickered a bit, his ears turning this way and that, but he was in no way intimidated by this new presence. Gabe had taken time to acclimate the Kzinti to so many humans in one place. He'd nearly knocked out a cadet in combat training last week. 

"Cap- I mean Gabriel. Um. Mr. Lorca, Gabriel, sir-" she tried to start. Forsyth's tail began to twitch, amused.. 

"You outrank me, Crewmen, call me as you see fit," Gabriel said with forced nonchalance. It was something to get used to. 

"I outrank you _currently_ , sir. Only for the time being." Gabriel arched an eyebrow as he dug out another forkful of his meal, and perhaps a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. 

"I didn't realize your promotion included morale, duties, Crewman-" 

"Please. Call me Tilly. At least while we're not on duty. I mean- not while I'm on duty? You wouldn't be on duty, you're-" Something of what she said made her laugh, and he figured it wasn't at his aim for a joke, but he pegged her as a nervous laugher. The squint in her eyes read more as pain than amusement. 

"And I'm not in charge of morale, per se, but I always like to make sure everyone on board is happy. You see, I'm going to be captain one day, and that means getting to know the crew, even those who may not be well li..ke...d." The look on her face. The saucer wide eyes and the fact that she hasn't even let go of her grip on her food tray. Gabriel couldn't help but chortle a bit. 

Her terrified gaze was then overshadowed by more embarrassment when Sha'uri walked up and stood meaningfully beside Tilly's seat, looking down upon the young woman. "Oh my god I'm so sorry I should have _realized_ -" There were no pauses until Sha'uri raised a hand to calm her, and her lips did that shrug thing that happens when she can't be bothered to actually shrug her shoulders. 

"No, no. Stay seated," Sha'uri said flatly as she dragged a chair from another table without even asking, but they didn't seem interested in stopping her. "I hear you have a knack for pulling the sticks out of people's asses." 

Tilly continued to look mortified. Forsyth gave a guffaw. Gabriel debated on dumping Forsyth's jell-o on his head, but instead gave a heavy lidded glare to Sha'uri, stretching his jaw to one side and then the other. She reacts by ignoring him and cutting her knife into a chicken breast with Andorian barbecue glaze. 

Sha'uri sat in her commandeered chair between Gabriel and Tilly and suddenly the table felt very three against one, and the odds were not stacked in his favour. 

"Is this one of those outdated intervention attempts? The kind where you all say you love and care about me and I grab the tissue box?" 

"I don't love you," Sha'uri dead pans. 

"I do not even think I care about you," Forsyth adds, tail switching back and forth playfully. 

"I don't know you all that well, but I think you're pretty okay," Tilly says, and out of the three of them, she looks like she actually considered her answer. Another eyebrow of his shoots up, as if in an attempt to be shocked. "I mean, Michael is okay with you, so I think I am, too." 

Gabriel forcibly prevented his hand from trying to bend his fork and instead began to polish the pad of his thumb back and forth against the prongs. Forsyth cleared his throat and began scooping at his jell-o again. Sha'uri remained unphased. 

Tilly met Gabriel's gaze again and looked more like she was aiming for a target in her mind. "The other Gabriel Lorca. The bad one. You already know he did a number on the crew." 

Gabriel gave a deliberately slow blink. "Captian Saru gave me some of the details." 

"Some, being the key word in that statement. What he probably - logically - neglected to tell you, was the amount of emotional damage Other Lorca did." 

"Do I need to know about this?" Gabriel murmured, scratching his nail between the prongs now. Sha'uri gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. 

"That man tore you down and made you want to earn his approval. He would vaguely insult you and expect you to make up for it by working double time." Tilly had a focused goal in mind, but Gabriel didn't want to see it. "His critiques were more personal than that. Like he could see your insecurities and tried to bottle them up for his own use." 

"Sounds like a harsh boss, but doesn't sound so evil to me." Sha'uri didn't even bother to look at Gabriel when she said it, because she knew it would just piss him off more. 

"You see, that's what we thought." Tilly said, a sad smile marring her enthusiasm. "He went on and about to gory details of war, but the Other Lorca almost idealized the war. Not even almost - he did! He _absolutely_ did. He glorified death and told you he was the martyr - that it was his mantel to carry. Meanwhile, he would try to make you forget how wrong it is to just take a life if it meant your people were saved." Gabriel dropped his fork. 

The eyes of the room were on them. His eyes were on his half eaten viinerine. 

"Other Lorca even had this weird tension with Michael? At the time, I thought his actions were more protective of his crew, but especially her, since it seemed she'd seemed thankful of his receptiveness to her joining the Discovery. But looking back, it was definitely more possessive than protective, and he had basically tried to brainwash her, and that's a reason maybe why I almost regret not seeing him fall into the mycelium reactor." Tilly's grip on her protein drink tightened almost imperceptibly. Gabriel was going to puke. 

"But you don't act like him. Not really," Tilly said, perhaps finally realizing how uncomfortable Gabriel looked. "You don't have that vibe." 

"But you do not exactly give off a friendly, welcoming one, either," Forsyth scoffed, eyeing Gabriel over gelatinous green goop before biting it. Who fucking bites jell-o. "The crew doesn't have even as wide a berth when I walk the halls in comparison to yourself, sir." 

"Glad you're so kind to point this out to me, Crewman," Gabriel said bitterly, leaning back in his chair as he braced his hands on his thighs before he did anything else with them. "I'll write that on my next request form. 'Not a grooming, gaslighting, genocidal maniac. Please accept me back'." Sha'uri's hand on his forearm warned him of his temper. He snapped his gaze to her. Paused. And quietly pushed out all of the air in his lungs. 

"Tilly, what are you doing?" came Michael's voice from over his shoulder. 

"Trying to invite Mr. Gabriel and his friends to movie night in the holodeck!" 

Three sets of eyes at the table slowly turn to Crewmen Sylvia Tilly in various, colourful displays of confusion. 

Forsyth grunts. "I feel I have maybe misinterpreted this universes human social structure more than I initially thought."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter ended stupidly and i don't like it but it almost made me sigh a laugh so here it is.
> 
> also, y'all ever watch M*A*S*H? that's the movie night vibe I'm going for. This didn't suddenly become a crack fic au, i promise.

**Author's Note:**

> gonna be blunt. comments and kudos motivate me to write more.


End file.
